At the end of September 2018, in the midst of the Annus Horribilis of the Roman Catholic Church (with the explosion of sexual abuse cases and the growing spiral of inner conflicts within the curia), Pope Francis called his people to devote themselves to praying to Mary to ask for her protection.[1] He asked the faithful to conclude the Rosary with the ancient invocation Sub tuum praesidium (“We fly to thy patronage”). The full Marian invocation is recited as follows:

We fly to Thy protection, O Holy Mother of God. Do not despise our petitions in our necessities, but deliver us always from all dangers, O Glorious and Blessed Virgin.

The prayer contains references to attributes and prerogatives that in the Bible are clearly and exclusively relegated to God, e.g. His protection, His acceptance of our petitions, His ability to deliver, and Him being both glorious and blessed. And yet, this Marian prayer ascribes all of these functions to Mary and her protective mantle. Where does this prayer come from? And why is it part of the liturgical and devotional life of the Roman Catholic Church now?

The Growth of MariologyA well-documented and scholarly answer comes from the book Mary in Early Christian Faith and Devotion(Yale University Press) by Stephen J. Shoemaker. Shoemaker traces the complex historical process that saw the Mary of the Bible become the Mary of manifold devotions in the first five centuries of the Christian era. The book maps out the growth of Mariology well beyond the “laconic” (62) portrait of Mary that is presented in the New Testament. Even stretching the focus to the second century, Mary certainly becomes the “new Eve” for Church Fathers like Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, thus seeing her role expanded to a useful corroboration of the Pauline parallel between Adam and Christ (the new Adam). However, there is no indication of any devotions attached to her. For these Fathers, “Mary seems to be a figure primarily of dogmatic rather than devotional concern” (47). Moreover, Shoemaker helpfully makes reference to a later Father like Tertullian who has a “lower esteem” for the mother of Jesus than other contemporary orthodox writers (65).

While “there is practically no evidence of any Christian devotion to Mary prior to 150 CE” (3), a first boost to the process came from the Protoevangelium of James, a late second century biography of Mary. Here she becomes “the epitome of sacred purity, as perfect holiness embodied in a human being” (60). Particular stress is put on her virginity that is “an emblem of her own sacred purity” (62) rather than a sign of the divine origin of the Son. Mary’s holiness becomes a dominating feature that attracts devotional attention on herself as an exceptional person. In a telling comment, Shoemaker argues that the Protoevangelium – therefore an apocryphal gospel – laid “crucial foundations for future devotions to the Virgin Mary” (53). For evangelicals wanting to ground spirituality on the canonical Scriptures, this in an important point to underline. Historically speaking, Marian devotions were fueled by writings that were never considered to be inspired, and yet have played a formidable role in generating the Marian cult.

A Heterodox BackdropThis is the background out of which the Sub tuum presidium prayer comes from. According to Shoemaker, this 3rd century Egyptian papyrus suggests, “Marian piety initially emerged within a more popular and less culturally elite context” (70). Moreover, the fact that the prayer does not mention the Father or the Son may indicate that it may have been linked with “heterodox groups within early Christianity” (72). The spurious lex orandi negatively influenced the subsequent development of the lex credendi. The fact that the highest Roman Catholic authority still uses this prayer shows how deep the impact has been.

The central chapters of the book are dedicated to a fascinating analysis of an important source such as The Book of Mary’s Repose, which opens the tradition of the Dormition narratives. Here, Mary is revered for “her knowledge of the cosmic mysteries and her influence with her son” (128) and capable of receiving intercessions, performing wonders, and making apparitions. The heterodox backdrop of the tradition depicts Jesus as the Great Cherub of Light, a typically gnostic title. The Six Books Dormition Apocryphon reinforce this insurgent tendency of making Mary the center of a proper cult.

Shoemaker also sheds light on the additions of roles given to Mary (e.g. the “ascetic model” strongly supported by Ambrose) and the liturgical evidence for the cult of the Virgin in terms of feast days, festivals, and hymnography. Here again, the lex orandi of ancient Christianity was “a bit ahead of its lex credendi” (194).

The lex credendi did arrive with the dogmatic pronouncement of Mary as the Mother of God at the Council of Ephesus, a “major turning point” in the history of Marian piety (205). The final chapter contains a fascinating examination of the Mariological elements undergirding the historical context, the theological debates, and the ecclesiastical outcomes of the Council of Ephesus. The point convincingly made by Shoemaker is that Marian piety was already present and strong before the Council and was one of the principal reasons why Nestorius was rejected by the party lead by Cyril on the theological side and by Pulcheria on the devotional side. The series of sermons by Cyril that followed the conclusion of the Council “went well beyond mere Christological concerns in its exalted praises to Mary” (225). Nestorius’ Christology was certainly in need of further refinement, but he was at least right in foreseeing the explosion of devotion to the Virgin that would follow the proclamation of her as the Mother of God.

Mariology: An Evangelical AnalysisThe historical and literary evidence persuasively presented by Shoemaker shows that Mariological devotions originated in heterodox (read: gnostic) milieux and were later theologized and integrated into the corpus of the Mariological doctrine of the Church (6). The book stops at a careful historical analysis, but the evangelical theologian wants to go further in saying something more that is backed up by historical evidence. Contrary to the idealized Roman Catholic view of the development of doctrine as an organic unfolding of the truth (from J.H. Newman onward), Mariological ideas and practices were added from the outside and allowed to penetrate the faith of the people. While Church Fathers like Irenaeus were painstakingly fighting against the heresies of Gnosticism in order to protect the integrity of the Christian faith, other sectors of the church were being infiltrated by gnostic deviations through Marian devotions. Gnostic influences that were thrown out of the door of theology re-entered through the window of devotions, without the church as a whole exercising enough biblical discernment to understand what was happening. Unfortunately, the lex orandi (in this case soaked in Gnosticism) eventually affected the lex credendi (which did not have enough biblical antibodies to reject them).

Back to Pope Francis. When he called his people to pray the Sub tuum praesidium Marian invocation, he referred to an ancient tradition that the Roman Catholic Church has assimilated and made its own. As has been the case from the late second century onward, “Marian devotion and doctrine continue to be driven largely by popular piety, to which the hierarchs and theologians largely respond” (239).

Reading Vatican II has often been a daunting experience for evangelicals. While navigating Vatican II, evangelicals are puzzled to find the restatement of traditional Roman Catholic teaching together with something that appears to contradict it. The chief example of the evangelical puzzlement is David Wells’ book Revolution in Rome (1972) where he attempts to make sense of the nuanced, juxtaposing, and cumulative way of the theologizing of Vatican II. After carefully reading its documents, Wells concludes that Vatican II on some strategic points (e.g. authority, ecumenism, religious freedom, the presence of the church in the world) seems to endorse “mutually incompatible theologies”, one conservative, the other progressive; one restating tradition, the other pushing beyond tradition. “How do we interpret this?” is the question that reflects the evangelical perplexity in coming to terms with the complexity of the Roman Catholic mindset as it is presented at Vatican II.

Scores of books have been written on Vatican II, the discussions behind its texts, the documents that were produced, and the controversial attempts to implement it. Its legacy is still a fiercely disputed matter in Catholic circles as well. This is to say that each new addition to the Vatican II library is a welcomed attempt at trying to navigate the deep waters of the Council. The recent book by Thomas G. Guarino, The Disputed Teachings of Vatican II. Continuity and Reversal in Catholic Doctrine (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2018) is particularly helpful for evangelicals for at least two reasons: First, since 2009 the author has been co-chairing the US-based “Evangelicals and Catholics Together” initiative and therefore is used to dialogue with evangelicals. Second, while never quoting David Wells, some of the evangelical perplexities contained in his book are discussed by Guarino with the intention of suggesting a Roman Catholic way to handle them.

Vatican II as “Profectus Fidei”?The church has always been confronted with the issue of change in her understanding of the truth and her accounting of it in teaching, preaching, evangelizing, etc. This is why Guarino looks back to the 5th century at Vincent of Lérins’ distinction between change as profectus (i.e. the development of doctrine that preserves the core) and change as permutatio (i.e. a mutation that alters the core). Without denying the significant changes in language, style and tone that are evident at the Council, Guarino argues that “Vatican II was in the main a homogenous profectus of the earlier tradition” (21), i.e. an advancement and expansion of previous tradition that nonetheless maintained its fundamental landmarks.

The main thesis of the book is that “Vatican II is in clear congruence with the prior Catholic tradition – even while homogeneously developing it on certain points” (10). Each word here is important: “congruence” means compatibility with the past, but no mere repetition of it. “Development” means organic growth, even with points of relative distancing from previous formulations, while remaining faithful to the doctrinal whole. The elastic yet firm combination of continuity and discontinuity at different levels is what characterizes Guarino’s appraisal of Vatican II. In borrowing Benedict XVI’s terms, instead of a “hermeneutic of rupture” one needs to come to terms with the meaning of Vatican II by using a “hermeneutic of reform” (21). The Council witnessed an “organic, homogeneous, architectonic growth” (5): a kind of change that occurred within the parameters of a coherent development that did not betray the well-established heritage of the church.

This reading of the Council is fascinating and in line with a typical Catholic et-et (both-and) hermeneutical approach. However, its overall plausibility is difficult to accept wholesale when, for example, one analyzes the evidence as far as the issue of religious freedom is concerned. After centuries of strong opposition to religious freedom and freedom of conscience by Roman Catholic magisterial authorities, after multiple papal encyclicals consistently condemning it (which Guarino fairly makes reference to on pp. 184-188), how is it possible to see in Vatican II’s approval of it an “organic” change that simply “developed” what had been previously taught? Why not simply say that Rome was wrong when it condemned religious freedom and then came to change its mind at Vatican II? Is it because the institutional church is believed to be indefectible (i.e. not erring nor making mistakes)? The fact that the Roman Catholic Church made a U-turn on religious freedom is a clear example that the willingness to preserve Rome’s continuity goes against the factual evidence. Guarino’s overall interpretation of Vatican II as simple “perfectus fidei” seems to squeeze the dynamics of the Roman Church into a one-fits-all type of approach, instead of accounting for its complexity. Is it not too simplistic and a way to protect the unsustainable claims of indefectibility within the Roman Church?

Three Key WordsBack to the central thesis of the book, there are three key words that one needs to become acquainted with. They are “development”, “ressourcement”, and “aggiornamento”. They form the vocabulary that is needed to try to make sense of Vatican II from within. Here is the way in which Guarino helps to clarify their meaning.

Development. Recalling J.H. Newman’s famous book, An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine (1894) Guarino acknowledges its profound influence on Vatican II. Development means “an unfolding of something that is already present implicitly or in germ” (57). According to Newman and Guarino, doctrine is inherently involved in an organic process of growth. The problem with this Roman Catholic view of development is always the same: what are the biblical boundaries of such a “development”? For example, can the Church develop its Mariology to the point of elevating two Marian dogmas (like the 1854 dogma on Mary’s immaculate conception and the 1950 dogma of Mary’s bodily assumption) without any biblical support? In other words, “development” without the biblical principle of Sola Scriptura (i.e. the Bible as the supreme authority for the church) safeguarding and guiding it can become a self-referential principle at the service of the institutional church. If the church can “develop” her own traditions even outside of the perimeter of the written Word of God, is it not a questionable development?

Ressourcement. The French word is another key term to enter the theological universe of Vatican II. It means “taking account of the entire theological tradition of the church” (59), be it the apostles, the fathers, the councils, the liturgy, and the witness of the Christian people. Vatican II is known for having paid more attention to the biblical sources of the faith as well as to patristic and liturgical sources. The “ressourcement” principle is important provided that the examination of the sources and their “weight” is put under the authority of the Word of God as the supreme source. Vatican II contained more biblical references than previous catholic documents, but it also stood in continuity with previous magisterial texts that had few Scriptural references and were primarily based on other sources (e.g. as it is the case with the Marian dogmas). Vatican II’s ressourcement added sources but did not subtract any even when Rome had developed its theology and practice outside of the Bible. It expanded the ability of the Roman Church to absorb new emphases without purifying it from spurious ones which had been previously embraced.

Aggiornamento. The final word that Guarino expounds comes from the Italian language and was used by Pope John XXIII. “Aggiornamento” means “bringing up to date” (66) the communication of the church by means of appropriating a different style and tone and making it more attuned with the modern mindset. “Aggiornamento” can give the impression that at Vatican II Rome really and substantially changed but it is closer to reality to say that the Roman Church went through a season of up-dating her language and attitude without relinquishing any of what was previously believed and pronounced. For example, the “anathemas” (i.e. curses) of the Council of Trent against the Protestants have been “updated” at Vatican II with a friendly and brotherly language but never renounced (and this means that they can be resuscitated any moment). The previous layer has been updated without being removed.

Guarino’s book does an admirable service to the evangelical reader in explaining the Vatican II vocabulary of “change”. Too often, evangelicals may have a superficial view of the Roman Catholic “change”. They can be impressed by the emphasis on Biblical passages that they find in post-Vatican II documents without properly understanding the fact that these biblical sources supplement rather than change the already established Roman Catholic sources which have shaped its teaching. It’s also possible that evangelicals might rightly appreciate the friendly tone of present-day Catholic theological language without necessarily knowing that “aggiornamento” adds a new style on top of what Rome has said and done in the past without cutting off its roots. In other words, the vocabulary of Vatican II should not be taken as implying that Rome is now open to a biblical reformation: it simply means that the Catholic Church, as Guarino argues, “was in continuity with the prior doctrinal landmarks” (read: the Council of Trent, the Marian dogmas, the dogma of papal infallibility) undoubtedly together with “true development” (199) that makes it more palatable to outsiders. The past is never renounced. It can be updated but remains untouched and continues to remain at the core of what the Roman Church is and believes.

A Paradigm ChangeBeyond the already mentioned contributions of Guarino’s book to the understanding of Vatican II, this work has another strength, perhaps its most important one. In order to assess the theology of Vatican II, its “theological principles” need to be grappled with and the book helpfully summarizes them. Yes, the “style” of the Council is important (as suggested by J. O’Malley); yes, the keywords of the Council are foundational (“development”, “ressourcement”, “aggiornamento”); but what about its theological vision? From where did Vatican II derive its principles? And what were they?

Guarino’s contention is that “analogical and participatory thinking are crucial, though generally overlooked, themes at Vatican II” (25). In his view, analogical and participatory categories form the backbone of the Council. Analogical thinking means that similarities are stressed (rather than differences); everything is analogous to something else and therefore close, similar, next to it. Participatory category means that everything participates in one way or another to everything else; therefore, mutual indwelling and inter-relationships are underlined (rather than distance and separation). If pre-Vatican II Roman Catholicism operated with a “univocal” approach (i.e. defining reality in one way only) followed by dialectical thinking (i.e. distancing itself from what was not aligned with its univocal definition), at Vatican II Rome learns to reframe its whole theological vision according to what is in common with everything else and what unites it with the rest of the world. “Dialectical difference was not the style of the Council – analogical similarity was” (73). Antinomies were replaced by analogies (75).

It is true that Vatican II does not use the traditional terms such as “primary and secondary analogates and intrinsic and extrinsic attribution” (27) but analogical and participatory thinking undergirds whatever Vatican II says. The Church of Rome is never called the “primary analogate” and the non-Catholic churches are never addressed as the “secondary analogates”; yet it is clear that Vatican II stresses what is in common between the two because they are analogous to each other. The same is true as far as participatory categories are concerned. When Vatican II speaks of the modern world in friendly terms, wanting to affirm and to embrace it, it does so assuming that “all human beings participate in the same created human nature, the ultimate ground of similarity among people” (26-27). The notion of a “diversified participation in a perfection” (80) undergirds modern Roman Catholic thought.

The is the theological background that allows Vatican II to talk about mutuality, friendship, partnership and cooperation with Protestants, Jews, Muslims, peoples of other religions, people of good will, the whole world. The Council promotes a “conciliatory approach – emphasizing unity with, rather than difference from, all others” (26). Again, in Guarino’s words, “the ‘others’ formally participate in the unique attributes of Catholicism and are therefore intensively related to it” (28). This is not the fruit of a generic kindness, but the result of a particular theological project based on analogical and participatory categories. This does not mean that the traditional claims of Rome being the only church, the perfect society, etc. are obliterated. They are no longer seen in exclusive and oppositional forms, but in analogous and participatory ways. It is no longer a matter of being “in” or “out”, inside or outside, but it is a matter of participating at various degrees to the same reality. “Without losing Catholic exceptionalism … the conciliar accent was placed on Catholicism’s similarity” (29) with other faiths. They are now considered as “partially similar to the Catholic faith and analogically related to it” (201). Elsewhere Guarino argues that “Catholicism did not change its self-understanding – but it did stress its close proximity to others” (131). Vatican II presents the view whereby Rome has the fullness of grace, but those who do not belong to it still participate in it at various levels of intensity. According to Guarino, all this happened and is happening “without betraying the material continuity of the faith” (44, i.e. the Roman Catholic faith). We are back to the Catholic dynamics of “development”, “ressourcement”, and “aggiornamento”, i.e. change without alteration, renewal without reformation, addition without purification.

Not Away From Thomism but Deeper into ItIn pointing to the importance of this “paradigm change” (31) in the present-day Roman Catholic Church, Guarino stands on the shoulders of giants of 20th century Catholic theology such as Gérard Philips, Karl Rahner, Yves Congar and Joseph Ratzinger (30-31). His is not an isolated, fancy interpretation of Vatican II, but the mainstream reading of the theological principles at work in the Roman Catholic Church since the last Council.

Following Congar, Guarino further argues that the real theological mind behind Vatican II is not a modern theologian but Thomas Aquinas himself. It was Aquinas who “furnished the writers of the dogmatic texts of Vatican II with the bases and structure (les assises et la structure) of their thought (25, 74, 200). Thomas’ doctrine of analogy and his reinterpretation of the neo-platonic doctrine of participation form the foundational axes of the theology of Vatican II. While the Council avoided “the language of scholasticism” it did make use of seminal “scholastic ideas” (74); again, “while Thomistic language was absent at Vatican II, Thomist ideas were in plain sight” (201). While Vatican II practiced an eclectic type of “ressourcement” it was Thomas Aquinas who was the main source behind it. A modernized form of Thomism, perhaps away from the rigidity of 19th century Neo-Thomism, but always within the same tradition expanded in the dialogue with the modern world, was and is the framework that provides “the bases and the structure” of Rome.

Three provisional implicationsWhat are the implications of such “paradigm changes” that occurred at Vatican II for evangelicals? They are Massive! Here are three tentative implications.

1) For the time being, Rome will not have an “oppositional” posture in relating to the non-Catholics but will always try to find commonalities, to underline unity, to stress fellowship, and to embrace evangelicals as much as possible. Evangelicals need to be aware that if they want to be faithful to the gospel they need to be “counter-cultural” and talk about gospel distinctives, biblical separation, covenantal allegiance to the Triune God that rejects idols and idolatry. Biblical truth always needs to confront and to refute error even if it comes from a traditional institution like the Roman Catholic Church.

2) Even after Vatican II, Rome is not committed to the biblical gospel but is dedicated to the all-embracing gospel of “analogy” and “participation” that has translated into Rome’s ecumenism, mariology, ecclesiology, inter-religious dialogue, mission, etc. Pope Francis may not even use the language of “analogy” and “participation”, but his message of “unity” and “mercy” is steeped into it. Evangelicals need to become more acquainted with the ground motives of present-day Roman Catholicism if they want to understand where Rome stands. The words used may be the same (gospel, grace, faith, conversion, etc.), but their meaning is different because Rome uses them within the theological framework of Thomistic “analogy” and “participation”.

3) When Rome changes, it does so according to its own pattern of change. This change implies degrees of renewal that are always in the context of substantial continuity with its well-established self-understanding. Evangelicals need to learn to understand the Roman Catholic dynamics of change if they want to account for both continuity and discontinuity in present-day Rome. The Catholic Church may even talk about the need for a “reformation”, but it will always be below the standards of biblical reformation and always in a way that self-protects the institution.

For all these reasons, Guarino’s book on Vatican II is particularly helpful for evangelical readers.

What remains at stake with the Roman Catholic Church 500 years after the Protestant Reformation? This question is of capital importance given the general ecumenical climate, which blurs differences and even finds them disturbing to talk about. The book Roman but Not Catholic: What Remains at Stake 500 Years after the Reformation provides timely food for thought in assessing the historical and theological implausibility of Rome being “catholic” and “Roman” at the same time. Written by two evangelical scholars (Kenneth Collins, professor of historical theology at Asbury Theological Seminary, and Jerry Walls, professor of philosophy at Houston Baptist University), this work is an engaging exercise in historical theology that helpfully grapples with the defining claims of the Roman Catholic Church: on the one hand, its claim of “catholicity” (universality), and on the other, its “Roman” structure. This combination is essential to the self-understanding of the Roman Catholic Church, but it is highly questionable on various grounds. The book is a well-argued critique of the very fabric of Roman Catholicism.

Roman and Catholic?First, let’s have a look at the main claim that shapes Roman Catholicism. Its catholicity has a Roman element so intertwined that it is an inextricable part of the whole. “Roman” is not just a geographical reference, but an essential and constitutive part of a system that is both Roman and catholic, or better still, “Roman Catholic” in a single breath. The romanitas of the system is co-essential with its catholicity. According to Jaroslav Pelikan, “the name ‘Roman Catholic’ conjoined the universality of the Church over the entire world, which has long been the content of the term ‘Catholic’, with the specificity of only one single see”[1], that of Rome.

Within the Western tradition, then, Roman catholicity is a long-established union of catholic universality and Roman particularity, catholic plurality and Roman unity, catholic comprehensiveness and Roman distinctiveness, the catholic totus (whole) and the Roman locus (place), catholic fullness and Roman partiality, catholic breadth and Roman narrowness, catholic elasticity and Roman rigidity, the catholic universe and the Roman center, catholic organism and Roman organization, the catholic faith and the Roman structure. Roman Catholicism wants to affirm both. But is it a warranted claim biblically or even historically?

Pointed CritiqueHaving briefly described the nature of the combination of Roman and Catholic elements in the Roman Catholic Church, the main critique of the authors is intelligently summarized at a number of points in the book. For example, the authors state, “Roman Catholicism represents not the universal church, as is so often claimed, but instead a distinct theological tradition, one among others” (p. 30, emphasis in the text). If Roman Catholicism is Roman, it cannot be truly catholic, and since Roman Catholicism wants to be Roman, it is not truly catholic.

The book surveys the development of Roman traditions that departed from the catholic (read: biblical) stream of the ancient church. Along the way, ecclesiastical voice and power supplemented and ultimately overtook biblical authority (ch. 2-4). The Roman Church grew its exclusive claims (ch. 6-7). The rise of the papacy became the climax of the Romanization of Catholicism (ch. 8 and 11-12). The sacraments were used to divide rather than to unite Christians (ch. 9). Accounts of the Mary of the Bible were idealized, which reflected the Roman Catholic synthesis (chps. 15-16).

“In short,” the authors say,“ironic though it is, the Church of Rome is not sufficiently catholic” (p. 83). The cumulative argument presented is that Rome wants to tie its romanitas (made of imperial structure, political power, hierarchical organization, extra-biblical traditions) to its status as the only church of Jesus Christ where the fullness of grace can be found. But this is exactly the point at issue. By wanting to be Roman, the Church ceases to be catholic. Hence the brilliant title: Roman but not Catholic!

This critique is always gently and respectfully put, but it has devastating effects on the self-understanding of the Roman Catholic Church if it is taken seriously. Among other things, it means that the Roman aspect of the church takes precedence over the biblical outlook and leads it away from clear biblical teaching in core areas like tradition, authority, Mariology, salvation, etc. It means that its Roman Catholicity was given primacy over its biblical catholicity, thus altering the fundamental commitments of the Roman Church.

One Standing IssueThe book is outstanding in its impressive scholarship and careful argumentation. I have many words of commendation with only one remaining criticism. The authors, though masterly at presenting a convincing case, don’t go far enough in coming to terms with its consequences. They still operate with the mindset that what divides Evangelicals and the Roman Catholic Church is less than what unites them. Here is the way they put it: “Deep Disagreement despite Deeper Agreement” (p. 78). According to them, the deeper agreement is the Trinitarian and Christological foundation of the “catholic” tradition (as it is enshrined in the early creeds of the ancient church), whereas the deep disagreement refers to the later Roman accretions (as they are, for example, reflected in the papacy).

This way of understanding the dividing line between Evangelicals and Catholics is popular in ecumenical circles, but it is not fully consistent with the thesis endorsed by the authors. The fact that the Roman Catholic Church is committed to its Roman identity and to its catholic heritage means that even the catholic (i.e. Trinitarian and Christological) core is affected by its Roman commitment. According to the Catholic Church, the Roman and non-biblical elements (i.e. the Roman pontiff, the Roman imperial institutions, the Roman hierarchical ecclesiology) are not accidents of history; they are considered to be de iure divino (i.e. stemming from divine law, being rooted in God’s will) constitutive components of the church. For Rome, its catholic and Roman dual identity is grounded in the divine will. So these foundational Roman commitments do impact the way in which the “catholic” ones are understood and articulated in doctrine and practice. The “catholic” heritage of Rome has been shaped, curved, and bent by its Roman additions to the point that it is no longer the way it was in the ancient church. It is a different catholicity. It is Roman Catholicism.

Moreover, all of the spurious Roman elements are argued for in Trinitarian and Christological ways by Roman Catholic theology. For example, the Pope is believed to be the “vicar” of Christ and chosen by the Holy Spirit. This is a Trinitarian argument, but a kind of Trinitarianism that is significantly different from the biblical one to the point of allowing and demanding the wrong Roman developments.

The point is that the “deep disagreements despite deeper agreement” approach adopted in the book should actually be reversed. Between the Evangelical faith and Rome are deep agreements despite deeper disagreements. “Roman but not Catholic” means that the catholic that is in Rome is no longer biblically catholic, but distortedly Roman Catholic, and needs to be reformed according to the gospel.

About

Vatican Files is a project of the Reformanda Initiative. We exist to identify, unite, equip, and resource evangelical leaders to understand Roman Catholic theology and practice, to educate the evangelical Church and to communicate the Gospel.

Bio

Leonardo De Chirico (1967) planted and pastored an Evangelical church in Ferrara (northern Italy) from 1997 to 2009. Since 2009 he has been involved in a church planting project in Rome and is now pastor of the church Breccia di Roma (www.brecciadiroma.it ). Additionally, Leonardo is the Director of the Reformanda Initiative, which aims to equip evangelical leaders to better understand and engage with Roman Catholicism, and the leader of the Rome Scholars Network (RSN).

He earned degrees in History (University of Bologna), Theology (ETCW, Bridgend, Wales) and Bioethics (University of Padova). His PhD is from King’s College (London) and it was published as Evangelical Theological Perspectives on Post-Vatican II Roman Catholicism (Bern-Oxford: Peter Lang 2003).